Over Bourbon
by Lina Trinch
Summary: While sitting in a bar, Castiel is met with the shock of his life and someone he never expected to see again. Someone he was almost sure he didn't want to see again.


**While looking for prompts, I saw this idea on tumblr and decided to give it a whirl. Enjoy.**

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He wasn't sure what to do now. Usually there was a path for Castiel to take or some sort of mission to walk on in order to set things right. Of course, things certainly _needed_ to be set right, but he didn't know how or if it was even possible.

Cas ignored it, though. There were so many problems right now that Heaven would have to wait. Besides, Hannah was overseeing it for now. She wasn't as bad as Rafael or Naomi or Bartholomew or any other psycho, himself included, that attempted to take control after the laughable Apocalypse. Back when it became ridiculously apparent that God wasn't with them anymore...

There were other things to worry about, he reflected, running his fingers along the condensation of the untouched beer in front of him. There was Dean. That was always a matter to worry over. There's Metatron, of course. If there's not one problem, it's something else. The state of Heaven, the state of his brothers and sisters, was no longer a concern to him. It wasn't allowed to be after the atrocities he's caused. He would only make everything worse. As usual. No matter how hard he tried...

"Um." Cas glanced up to the burly bartender, nodding to the beer, "You want something else or-?"

"No." The angel shook his head, waved his hand. "No, thank you. This is fine. I've had draft beer before. It was pleasant. Things have changed since then, of course, especially the way that I perceive taste and smell now, but the memory itself is one I'm quite fond of."

The bartender stared at him. "Uh." He cleared his throat and spoke. "Are you, like... on doctor's orders or something?"

Cas squinted at the tall man, not completely understanding. "I don't obey any physician's commands, or a doctor of theory's for that matter... I haven't followed anyone in years, actually. Well, I suppose if friends don't count-" The bartender was staring again. "I apologize. No, I'm not following any particular doctor's commands."

"Okay," the other guy said slowly, a bit concerned. "Right, um. Just... let me know if you want something else."

"Of course, thank-"

He was interrupted when someone loudly slammed two bills on the bar beside him. "We'll take a round of bourbon, please. Keep it coming," the smooth English accent spoke through a smile. Cas had already looked over to the man, now hopping onto the stool next to him, but he couldn't dare believe what he was seeing. Were the hallucinations starting again? Is it because of Naomi's torture or the Leviathans? Maybe the graces are making him worse than he initially feared. Maybe he's just going crazy. It happened once, but he never saw this. He should have. There were times that he wanted to.

He didn't want to anymore.

Balthazar finally turned and looked to him, blue eyes just as bright, the grin a little more taunt. "Hi, Cassie."

The clink of glasses signaled their whiskey arriving, but Castiel never looked away. He found that he couldn't. He was afraid to. Afraid that if he did, Balthazar would stab him through the heart or, worse, vanish.

There was a long silence that neither spoke, where they just stared at one another, waiting. Eventually, Cas attempted to take a sharp breath, but it only seemed to make him dizzy. "How?" His voice was low, strained. He seemed to be unable to talk normally, too. "How are-...?"

"Have a drink, Cas," Balthazar responded, being the first to turn away and take up his drink. "You look like you need it right now."

Castiel watched him knock him back, watched his adam's apple bob up and down, watched him down the whole thing. "Are you real?"

The other laughed into his drink and pulled it away before he could spill it. "Good one," Balthazar laughed, before his smile fell into a grimace and he took Cas' drink as well. "That's a riot," he mumbled into the glass, hailing the barkeep back with two fingers.

What did that mean? It didn't answer anything.

The bartender came back, gave them each two more glasses to set on the counter, and stayed a moment. Castiel was too busy staring at Balthazar to notice the worried glances, but after a moment he walked down the bar and left them alone again.

The blonde had already knocked back his third drink, Cas watching every move and detail, before angrily pointing at the other glasses. "Will you please have your liquor now? I paid for these bloody things."

Castiel was taken aback by the outburst, more so than he thought he would be. Finally, he turned away and stared at the drinks in front of him. A quick glance back proved that Balthazar was still beside him, but now the issue was the whiskey. Was he supposed to have one last drink before being killed? Surely he was about to be killed. And why should he fight back this time? Why run?

He pushed away the thoughts and took a glass, looking back to his brother one more time. Liquor wouldn't make him feel any better. He was afraid. He was absolutely terrified. "How?" he asked again, forgetting the drink in his hand.

Balthazar looked back to him again, anger and pain flashing through his eyes for a brief second before subsiding. "You really thought I was dead," he said as a fact. "You really thought you had killed me."

Castiel stared at him, waiting for him. An attack, an outburst, something. Nothing happened and his brother just stared at him. "I-" He cleared his throat. "I did... many horrible thi-"

"Oh, stuff it," Balthazar grumbled, grabbing his fourth drink. "You did _horrible things_ after the Leviathans' took control of you, while you were half-arsed looney. Me? Oh no. You were perfectly sane back then, Cassie. Don't give me that bull excuse." He drank.

Castiel blinked rapidly, trying to process this. He couldn't be real. How could he know all of that? "I- I wasn't-"

"I thought," Balthazar continued, ignoring the other's stammering, "that since you never grieved for me or even seemed to have cared that the only idiot trying to save your sorry ass had just died by your hand, then maybe you knew. Maybe you knew that I had escaped. Maybe you knew I was never in any danger from the start. Maybe you just went along with it to help me escape before it all got out of hand. Maybe you knew the entire deal, but that's not the case, is it? You really thought you had killed me and _that_ was how you reacted to it. Of course. Of course. Why should I ever think anything dif-"

"I didn't-!" His tongue felt swollen, making it hard to speak. Cas tried swallowing, his throat too dry. "I didn't know. I didn't... _think_ \- I-... I did- It was horrible. What I did to you. After everything. I never- I couldn't even-"

" _Stuff it_ ," Balthazar growled, twisting around the face Castiel. For a moment, he looked genuinely hurt, but it was gone again when he took the last remaining drink, quickly downing it, and stealing the drink right out of Castiel's hand, and down that, too. Balthazar slammed the last one back on to the counter, making the other glasses clink together, before digging into his leather jacket. It was the first time Castiel noticed the rest of him. He had different clothes on. A black leather jacket, crème scarf, white v-neck shirt, dark jeans-

Balthazar slapped Castiel's chest as he jumped off the barstool. Cas nearly had a heart attack right there and stopped breathing again, the edges of his vision darkening before he realized there was no weapon there. "Gabriel sends his love letter," Balthazar said coldly, eyes shining like steel.

Castiel caught the note as Balthazar walked away, noticing the ancient enochian symbols as he scanned the short message. This was a very old dialect, before humanity evolved into the society it is now. Was it an answer to the mark?

Before he could probably try to decipher it, he blinked and realized the words spoken to him. "Gabriel?" He swiveled on his chair, only seeing the other patrons of the bar, his brother gone. Cas quickly jumped up and ran for the door, out into the night air and nearly into the middle of the street. "Balthazar!"

He was gone. Because of him. Again. "Balthazar..."

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 **This is more than likely a oneshot as it wouldn't fit in with canon (unless something amazing happens in the next few episodes). If you want more, let me know. I might spin out something else. Thanks for reading!**


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